


Crow Rising

by Rroselavy



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-30
Updated: 2010-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 08:14:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rroselavy/pseuds/Rroselavy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ken'yuu wants. Ukoku needs. Koumyou delivers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crow Rising

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whymzycal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whymzycal/gifts).



_Ukoku._

When Koumyou first spoke the word in the eerie silence, Ken'yuu thought the man was referring to the crows that had been set aloft by his flagrantly bloody act of ascension. Ken'yuu was too shocked to acknowledge the remark, too stunned at the carnage that _he'd_ visited upon his old master and the other disciples who'd come to claim the coveted title of sanzo to move.

Across the gory field Koumyou Sanzo stood, arms folded across his chest, unflappable expression pasted firmly on his face. _He_ looked like a shimmering white pearl--a mirage--though soon that vision was tinged pink by rivulets of blood running down Ken'yuu's forehead, sliding under his glasses.

He closed his eyes, still unable to stir, still under the spell of the awesome power he'd displayed, his body resonating with the last waves of that incredible blast of energy.

What must Koumyou think of him now? He shuddered inwardly. His guts wrenched.

"Ukoku."

He was surprised by the closeness of the older man's voice. Blinking away the red droplets, Ken'yuu focused on Koumyou's unreadable expression. He half expected to be struck down by him; he'd done it before.

The third time Koumyou repeated 'ukoku' it finally dawned on Ken'yuu that he was bestowing upon him his title, anointing him with his new name. It brought back a snippet of an earlier conversation, one separated by a heavy, barred door.

_I can't decide if you're a genius or a moron._

_I get that a lot._

_Say, you could you just kill me, you know._

_Sorry, too much of a hassle._

He was being named after a bird, probably the first thing that had popped into the old geezer's mind. It figured. He'd named his son after the river he'd fished him from, after all.

Strong hands enclosed his wrists, fingers curling to meet again. Koumyou's face loomed even closer.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

"Don't touch me!"

It came out all wrong. What he'd meant to say was he was covered with blood and mortified that Koumyou would sully his own pristine garments. But it didn't matter anyway; Koumyou's grip was fast and Ken'yuu was glad for it. The insistent tug, the warm, firm grip finally set his feet in motion.

When they returned, the monastery was unnaturally quiet. Koumyou took him directly to the baths, pushed Ken'yuu into the shower-room and shooed all the gawkers away. As if in a dream, he heard Koumyou's voice, low and full of authority, explaining to someone or _someones_ where they would find the old master. He heard the order for the recovery of the Muten Scripture.

_His_ scripture.

Ken'yuu bent at his waist, carefully laying his glasses on the rim of the sink, then fumbled at the spigots before tepid water spurted out violently. He washed his face, blurrily watching reddened water race to the drain. He kept rinsing until it ran clear.

Hands at his shoulders brought Ukoku up with a start; he hadn't even felt another's presence in the room.

"You won't be needing this anymore," Koumyou remarked, slipping Ken'yuu's simple yukata off his shoulders. His voice was warm; it sent a shiver up Ken'yuu's spine. He stood obediently, his arms at his sides, while Koumyou disrobed him.

"I'm not wearing Goudai's."

"Of course not. He was twice your size; that would be rather ridiculous. I brought spare clothes; you can return them to me when you've been suitably outfitted." Ken'yuu's robe fell to the floor with a whisper. He stepped out of his sandals.

"Koumyou."

He felt naked and like a child, standing before his father. Only his father had never made him feel the way Koumyou did. Koumyou made him feel like there were still mysteries in the world that needed solving; that needed his attention.

Koumyou's hand encircled his wrist again. "You need a shower."

"You must not think much of me," he mumbled.

"Hmm? What I think is of no consequence." Koumyou paused. "If you'd asked me what I thought, I would have told you that becoming a sanzo wasn't the hard part. The hard part is _being_ a sanzo." He continued to walk toward the showers, Ken'yuu in tow. "I suppose it's too late now."

But what Koumyou thought _now_ suddenly seemed immensely important in Ken'yuu's mind. He stopped and, when Koumyou turned toward him with a quizzical look, Ken'yuu surged forward, pressing their lips together. He felt Koumyou release his wrist and took the opportunity to grab the older man by the shoulders.

After a few seconds Ken'yuu realized that Koumyou wasn't responding. He was standing there woodenly, arms at his sides, mouth closed. Ken'yuu released him and stepped back as if he'd been burned, feeling the heat of embarrassment on his cheeks.

"I'm-I'm-" he stammered.

"I think you should take that shower now. Perhaps you should make it a cold one." Koumyou glanced down, completing Ken'yuu's humiliation; it was impossible to hide his hard-on.

Moments later, he stood under a bracing deluge for as long as he could take the icy flow-until his teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. He scrubbed his skin raw trying to warm up again, finally wrapping the towel around his waist and standing there uncertainly. He didn't think he was supposed to go back to his pallet where he slept amongst the other initiates, but did that mean that he was to just assume Goudai's position? He wished Koumyou had waited, but Ken'yuu realized his actions had probably driven the other man straight back to Kinzan temple.

He felt detached from his body, as if the events of the day had happened to someone else, and he'd merely been an observer. It was surreal; Ken'yuu barely felt his limbs as he began moving, but that could have been residual numbness from the temperature of the water. Still, he decided, there was little to be gained from uncertainty. His first official act would be to claim his scripture.

When he reached the dressing area, Ken'yuu found a novice was waiting for him, visibly trembling.

"Boo," he intoned, causing the youth to nearly jump out of his skin.

"Ken-Master Ukoku!" the boy blurted before composing himself. "Master Koumyou told me to tell you that you should join him in the Meditation hall once you were decent." He held out a black silk sheathe upon which twin arm-warmers had been folded neatly.

_Decent._

Ken'yuu repeated the word silently. He was sure that was Koumyou's exact word, and it was pregnant with all kinds of meaning.

Ken'yuu took one of the sleeves and pulled it over his forearm, rolling it up the damp skin of his biceps, then repeated the action with the other; both thrilled and nervous that Koumyou had remained in the temple complex. The shirt was next. As it passed over his head, Ken'yuu imagined Koumyou's scent lingered on it faintly - sandalwood with an undertone of tobacco. He drew his lips in a thin line as he ruminated over his audacious kiss. What had he been thinking? He rolled his eyes as he pulled the slinky top down over his body. The problem was, he hadn't been thinking at all beyond wanting to shock Koumyou.

He turned his attention to the novice, who was brandishing a pair of drawstring pants. They certainly weren't his style, but on that point, Ken'yuu wasn't about to argue. Finally came the cream-colored robe, which the novice belted neatly at Ken'yuu's waist.

"Decent enough?" He arched a brow and the boy cast his eyes to the floor, a blush blooming on his cheeks.

"Yo-your shoes." He pointed to a familiar pair of wooden sandals neatly aligned on the rough plank floor. "I-I cleaned them for you."

"How thoughtful." Ken'yuu slipped his feet into them, then went back to the basin to collect his glasses. Replacing them, he frowned when he glanced at his reflection in the mirror; his forehead was empty of the mark of the Chosen.

He started toward the long hallway that led to a courtyard which separated the living quarters from the public rooms of the temple. The sunlight was strong on his back as he traversed the cobblestones, his footsteps echoing against the blank walls.

The meditation room was set off the main Temple hall. Ken'yuu slid the shoji door closed behind him. Koumyou was sitting in a half-lotus, his hands resting on his knees, palms-up. His eyes were closed and Ken'yuu took the opportunity to stare at his fine features. Koumyou wasn't pretty, he was down-right handsome. Though he wore his hair long, it didn't in any way diminish his masculinity or soften his chiseled features.

"We've been summoned to the Temple of the Setting Sun," Koumyou remarked without cracking an eyelid.

"When do we leave?"

"Now."

Koumyou rose and, in a fluid motion, unfurled the sutra that had been nestled in his lap, laying it carefully over Ken'yuu's shoulders. Though the scripture was crafted of the finest rice paper, it felt leaden around Ken'yuu's neck, and as tight as a noose.

* * * * *

After three days' travel, it was nearly impossible for Ukoku to be in Koumyou's presence without getting achingly hard. As a distraction, he became a student of the man, studying his every move, dissecting his every comment for some hidden, profound meaning.

After three days of observation, Ukoku had learned a great deal about Koumyou Sanzo, and he filed each fact away, methodically exorcizing the rumors and innuendo that surrounded the older priest. Ukoku decided that Koumyou wasn't lazy, as his reputation painted him. Rather, his actions were an efficiency of movement that only enhanced the grace with which he faced each day.

He was endlessly patient, too, and that rattled Ukoku. Koumyou didn't mind the _neediness_ of the people they ministered to on the road and, while their ardency to attend to not one, but two of the holiest priests in the land quickly got under Ukoku's skin, Koumyou weathered it all with good humor. Some hung on every word the pilgrims spoke, wheedling more and more from he and Koumyou in return for their charity. None of that fazed Koumyou, though, and his statement replayed over and over in Ukoku's head: _The hard part is _being_ a sanzo._

Koumyou made _that_ seem effortless. In fact, everything seemed _easy_ for Koumyou, while Ukoku felt as if he were drowning. He _did_ want to drown, but not under the weight of his new responsibilities. He would have preferred to drown in Koumyou's arms--that would have made the ordeal bearable.

* * * * *

"We're to travel together for a year," Koumyou stated flatly after his private audience with The Three Aspects. "Our first stop is Chang'an."

Ukoku took unnecessary pleasure in the sentence that had been handed down. It almost made up for the fact that he was still bereft of a chakra; the three God-heads had made it plain that he hadn't been chosen by Them, even though the scripture was now his.

A year together meant that even if he wasn't to have Koumyou's body, he was to occupy the lion's share of his time instead of the little brat he called his son. Ukoku had never met Kouryuu, but he hated him already. It was the one thing about Koumyou he found annoying--the way he would go on and on about the boy.

"So I get to hear you preach about The Way in an endless loop." Ukoku was feeling petulant after thinking about his rival for Koumyou's attention; he didn't want Koumyou to think he'd enjoy any of it...too much, at least.

Koumyou merely grinned his Mona Lisa smile.

"The real tragedy is that I can't teach anyone The Way. You either know It, or you don't." He left Ukoku there pondering the hidden meaning of his statement.

When he finally caught up with Koumyou later, he'd found him in the mineral hot spring, a short distance and a narrow path away the temple complex. The pool was surrounded by stands of bamboo that were dotted with dogwood and cherry trees. Its natural banks were rimmed with pumice-textured black volcanic rock. Koumyou's body glowed ethereally, ghostly white against the verdant and pitch backdrop.

He was naked, his eyes closed, his face a serene mask.

"You were talking in your sleep last night."

Ukoku startled. "I-I was?"

He'd woken up, a mess of sticky come, shouting "Fuck, please Koumyou!" In his dream Koumyou had been giving him exquisite head, sucking him off to near completion, only to encircle the base of his cock in an iron grip.

"What did I say?"

"Nothing that made much sense." A smile played on Koumyou's lips.

Ukoku got the feeling that he was being played.

"Why don't you come in? You look like you could stand a little relief." Koumyou's eyes drifted over his form.

"Don't mind if I do," Ukoku replied as nonchalantly as he could muster. He doubted it was convincing, but he was determined to turn the tables in this game.

Ukoku made quick work of his clothing, hanging his borrowed robes and accoutrements on a low-hanging cherry limb, along with the sutra. He was half-hard already, and not inclined to hide it.

The hot spring was the perfect temperature; Ukoku hardly felt it against his skin as he lounged on a natural bench formation under the water. A mist curled off the surface, only to dissipate in the cool evening air.

Koumyou moved next to him, barely rippling the water.

"Turn your back to me." Ukoku obeyed and was immediately treated to elegant, strong fingers kneading out the tense muscles of his neck. He closed his eyes and slipped off his glasses, perching them on the lip of the pool.

"Oh, Koumyou..." he practically purred.

"Shhhh." Koumyou's breath caressed the bare skin of his neck, raising gooseflesh.

With the help of the buoyancy created by the water, he easily maneuvered Ukoku into the space between his legs. Koumyou's cock was hard, and it rubbed insistently against Ukoku's bottom. Koumyou's hair billowed around him in the water, the delicate gossamer strands brushing over Ukoku's arms. He imagined that he and the water were one and he, in turn, was enveloping Koumyou in a steamy embrace.

Koumyou's hands slid down Ukoku's sides, his thumbs tracing a straight path on either side of his spinal column. Ukoku moaned softly, hating himself for sounding so wanton, loving every inch of skin Koumyou touched.

"Is this what you want?" Koumyou's lips descended on his shoulder, his teeth found purchase at the juncture of Ukoku's neck and he bit down, immediately soothing the flesh with his tongue.

"Yesssss..." Ukoku hissed out. The pain was fierce and equally arousing. He stifled a cry when Koumyou gripped his cock and began to stroke it in a lazy rhythm. "Please!" he rasped, though he didn't quite know what he was begging for.

Ukoku could no longer feel where he ended and Koumyou began. The water encapsulated them as one being, and his world narrowed to the sensation of that inhumanly strong hand slowly, gently, coaxing him to climax. Koumyou's other hand slipped between their bodies and he teased Ukoku's entrance deftly before burrowing two fingers deep inside. There was very little burn in the penetration, just a gnawing in Ukoku's belly that it wasn't _enough_.

Now that he'd made his admission, had given his assent, Ukoku knew innately that they were riding a runaway train; nothing would stop them. Koumyou's energy surrounded him, washed over him, pierced into him with each thrust. A thumb rubbed over the crown of his cock, pressing into the tiny slit. Something inside Ukoku snapped; the days of yearning reached their culmination and he came hard, his head resting on Koumyou's shoulder. Koumyou's lips softly brushed against his cheek as Ukoku spiraled down from his climax.

He felt slightly deflated and empty then, as he often did after orgasm. The feeling was amplified when Koumyou's fingers slipped out of him. For a moment, Ukoku wondered if Koumyou had come too; he wasn't a kid after all. He turned in Koumyou's arms and faced him, smiling when he felt a hardness bobbing against his body. Koumyou spread Ukoku's knees wider and Ukoku slung his arms around Koumyou's neck to keep from losing his balance.

Koumyou gripped his hips and lifted Ukoku up and then slowly impaled him. When he was fully seated, fully filled by Koumyou, Ukoku hazarded a shuddering breath. He wondered why Koumyou had chosen _now_, when he'd so firmly rebuffed him only a few days earlier. Koumyou must have sensed the unasked question. He brought their faces forehead to forehead and his lips ghosted over Ukoku's as he spoke.

"This is far better than a quick fuck in the communal shower of a monastery."

Ukoku could only nod his head in agreement because at that very moment Koumyou chose to roll his hips. The friction sent bolts of pleasure coursing through his body; Ukoku felt as if he were being turned inside out. Koumyou's slow gyrations were designed to drive him insane, he decided. He wanted to rock against Koumyou, to force his pace, but he was held fast, he could only submit, succumb to the maddening, agonizing rhythm.

By the time he felt the heat of Koumyou's seed spilling deep inside him, Ukoku had been rendered boneless after coming again, this time simply from the rub of his cock against Koumyou's tight belly.

Lifting him gently, Koumyou slipped out of Ukoku and then cradled him in his arms. He sighed softly, his cheek resting against Ukoku's damp hair, and Ukoku drowsily nestled closer. Koumyou often made him feel unsettled and off-balance and horribly vulnerable, but he'd also accepted Ukoku.

Eclipsing all that, though, Koumyou had given Ukoku something he needed.


End file.
